A wise man once told Fred that those who are insane have not lost their mind, no, they have found it. Those who are deemed crazy are merely acting as their true original selves that they've hid under years of sanity for so long.

Well, not really. It wasn't a wise man, it was a patient. And he didn't tell him that, he wrote it down. On his suicide note. And even so, it was years before he took his job, Fred was merely bored and was reading through the case files. But he couldn't help but think of that note whenever he talked to Doctor Thorne after the Loboto incident.

Doctor Sheila Thorne had took it upon herself to give Loboto therapy after what happened. And something must've cracked one of her overly-defensive walls, as her voice wasn't as knife-like anymore, her smiles didn't look so forced, and she no longer looked so pale. This was the real Sheila, not the cold-stared and stony face Thorne. She talked, she laughed, she seemed to care for people, and she became more than a superior to Fred. More like.. A comrade. A partner. A friend.

Which is the reason Fred rushed himself to the asylum at five in the goddamn morning when he heard something had happened to her.

People surrounded room 305, one of the many rooms with a one-way mirror so people could look at patients, but the patients could only see what they had become. Only used for the more volatile patients, and even so, some patients often believed their reflection was conspiring against them.

Words flew as Fred tried to get to the mirror.

The poor dear..

A suicide attempt? From her?

She seemed so happy...

Doctor Quinzel? You're needed with patient 1843, ya know, Joe Kerr.

This insanity is becoming a plague!

Fred got to the mirror after shoving many people out of the way, and there, huddled in the corner, was the new patient. Hair was messy, a glasses lense was broken, her gown was already stained with a bit of blood, her wrists were scratched, and–

Oh. Oh no. It couldn't be. Not her. Anyone but her. Not the good doctor.

Without hesitation, Fred pried open the door and ran into her room, slamming it shut behind him, drowning out the yells of stop from the doctors.

"Doctor Thorne? It's me, Fred. Are you alright?" he said, slowly walking to the shivering woman in the corner. She stared at him, wide eyed, clutched herself a little closer, and bit her lip.

"I'm not going to hurt you, doctor." She didn't believe that. She shoved herself against the wall, and Fred could've sworn she mumbled a 'No'.

Fred crouched down to get to her height, and held out his hand. "See? Not going to hurt you. Promise. Now can you tell me what happened?"

She squinted at him for a second, sighed, then spoke.

"I'm.. Not sure, Fred." her voice was cracked and grating, she really was scared. "I was just.. Talking to Loboto yesterday. He.. He really gets into your mind, you know, even with all the restraints we put up. He said things like.. I dunno.." She closed her eyes again, thinking. "'No one really would mind if you disappeared one day. Go on, try it. You push people away, I bet... Surprised they just don't ignore you.' He'd been saying things like this for a while, you know." she opened her eyes, glancing around the room. "He's.. Still in his restraints, right?"

"Yeah. Why?" Fred inquired.

"I.. I don't want him to find me." she shivered a bit at this thought. "Anyway... I was supposed to give him his meds today, right? So, I picked up the little pill cup and was walking to his room, and heard... Voices." Fred raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah, voices. All in this grating, scratchy voice. 'No one will mind. You're unimportant. Kill yourself.' And I just wanted it to stop, and next thing I knew, the pill cup was empty, I was on the floor, sobbing, doctors were yelling for 911, and the voices just... Stopped." tears began streaking down her face, and she covered her eyes with her hands, nails scratching her glasses.

"I.. Just wanted t-to shut them up. Please Fred, tell them to.. Tell them to let me out.. I just wanted to make it stop..." she said through her tears.

Not her. Anyone but her.

The rain outside was pounding, turning the half-melted snow into slush outside. Inside the asylum walls was just as dreary. Fred barely talked when the doctors pulled him away from the sobbing Sheila. She even reached out to him, crying for him not to go. She needed someone, anyone, a familiar face that could promise not to hurt her. And Fred would do anything to help her.

Maybe the suicidal patient was right. Maybe this was the true her, cracked and broken and praying for this hell to end. Maybe Edgar really was just an angry guy. Maybe Gloria just was two different people. Maybe Boyd was meant to be questioning the world. And maybe, under it all, Loboto was the most horrible bastard to ever walk the earth.

"Ah, if it isn't the Bonaparte boy!" came a scratchy voice, waking Fred from his thoughts in the lobby. Loboto was being drug back to his room by the guards from whatever test they were running on him. "Tell me, how's Sheila? You know, I thought up a new name for her.. Sheegor! Funny huh, though Shelastien would work more, since I made her this way.." Loboto laughed too hard at his own joke.

Fred had never punched anyone harder in his entire life.

The idea of Fred FALCONPAUNCHing Loboto in the face may just be the greatest mental image I will have in a long, long time.

Also, thanks to Bluemoon613 for re-running the whole "ThorneSheegor" idea in my brain.